


Building

by AngelofDarkness1605



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-11
Updated: 2014-12-11
Packaged: 2018-03-01 02:42:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2756576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelofDarkness1605/pseuds/AngelofDarkness1605
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Due to his bad leg, Mr. Gold is convinced that he is incapable of satisfactorily making love to Belle. Inventive as always, his True Love finds a most fulfilling solution.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Building

“Don't do this, Belle.  _Please._ ”

Being undisturbed in their bedroom of their Storybrooke home, it goes against all of Rumplestiltskin's instincts to urge his True Love to stop, to break their kiss and remove her hand from his thigh.

Indeed, it goes against all of his instincts to  _beg_ , even with Belle, but it's the only measure he can take that might prevent another disaster.

“I want to keep trying, Rumple. I'm sure we'll be able to get it right eventually.”

Despite knowing what will happen far too soon if they go any further, he can't help but  _want_ her, his treacherous body failing him time after time, and in more ways than one.

“We  _can't...._ you know that.  _I_ can't. I'm so sorry sweetheart, but...”

The lump in his throat and the tears of humiliation in his eyes preventing him from saying anything else, Rumplestiltskin turns away from her.

Pointedly ignoring the few scraps of lace on her body and, much more interesting, the flawless skin and curves that they reveal, he pulls a sheet up to his head to cover himself. It brings him little comfort; it's not as if she hasn't seen his unattractive form already, as if she doesn't yet know of the scars and – worse yet – the many other failings of his body.

“Shall we talk about it instead?”

Ever so patient, Belle covers herself as well and lies down next to him, not quite touching him.

“If that's what you want...”

“It's not about what  _I_ want, Rumple. It's about what  _we_ want. We already know what we want. The question is how to get there.”

It's tempting to lash out at her, to yell and threaten and  _growl_ , anything but to have this conversation again. But she is  _Belle_ , the love of his life, and he does everything in his power to never hurt or scare her. If only pleasuring her would be as simple.

“We  _tried_ ,” he says, all but pleading. “I did anything I could. My body, it's just... it's  _useless_. I'm not strong enough.”

Ironically, what's tormenting them is not what he always feared it would be. Doubtlessly thanks to weeks of doing anything  _but_ physically joining their bodies in the most intimate way possible _,_ he at least didn't lose himself right after guiding himself inside her for the very first time.

During the first attempts Rumplestiltskin has been driven almost mad by the beauty and pleasure of truly making love to her, but he has always maintained at least some resemblance of control – only to find that his bad leg ruins almost as much as he dreaded that his assumed limited endurance would.

“That's not true and you know it. With our history there were bound to be difficulties at some point. Really, it's only because it went so well before that makes this seem difficult to overcome.”

Her words only succeed in frustrating him more. It's almost cruel how their initial intimate success has given him such hopes, that the almost effortless way he could push her over the edge with his hands or mouth made him believe that it perhaps wouldn't be any different if he were to actually bury himself inside of her.

In reality, it turns out that his previously injured leg prevents him from finding enough leverage to push into Belle at the angle that's needed for both of them to find completion. At the same time, his bad ankle leaves him incapable of taking his weight off either of his hands or arms, making it impossible for him to stimulate her with his fingers.

She unabashedly offered to simply touch herself. They tried it at the cost of yet another significant part of his confidence, only to find that it only increased his frustration with his inadequacies and consequently ruined the mood completely.

“We've been trying for  _weeks_ , Belle. We've tried dozens of times and I couldn't... you never...”

There have been other attempts, plenty of them. Initially, it seemed like a very good idea to have Belle on top instead. But just having her straddle him, her thighs brushing against his aching length, aroused him to the extent that he'd spilled himself when she was only positioning herself - all the three times that they tried.

“I know,” she says quietly. “But you more than made up for it, you're aware of that as much as I am. I'm not saying that it doesn't matter, because it obviously does. But it can only get better if we keep trying, and we can't do that if you push me away.”

In the end, they attempted several positions which had him on top and spared his leg, but which made it impossible for him to look at her face. Physically, some of those options had potential, but they turned out to be the most embarrassing ones yet.

Rumpelstiltskin may have thought that this incapability of properly using his left leg or last long enough to begin with were the worst of his problems, but when he had actually softened inside of her before climaxing...

He'd like to think that he couldn't find release or even maintain hardness because he couldn't look into Belle's eyes, but deep inside he had known that the sheer nervousness and pressure were beginning to make it only more difficult, more  _impossible_ , than before.

It's only a small comfort that, for each failed attempt with his manhood, he has managed to give her at least two times as many releases with other parts of his body.

“I know,” he says, miserably echoing her words. “But we've tried all these different things already and none of it  _worked_.”

“We just haven't found the right solution yet.”

“Well, if you can't find it in any book... then it tend not to exist, sweetheart. I  _know_ that you don't want to consider magic, but...”

“We're  _not_ using magic for this. And I didn't find this idea in a book. Storybrooke's library turned out to have a rather... limited collection of this particular topic. Outdated and incomplete, mostly.” He grimaces at that, vividly recalling that the much-turned, black and white pages were more than exciting enough in his eyes. “ _Censored,_ I'd almost say, after what I found on the internet.”

It seemed impossible for this to go any worse, but here they go. Rumpelstiltskin only vaguely recalls the infrequent, accidental images on his screen sometimes when his cursed self had to use a computer, but he's heard more than he ever wanted to just by sitting quietly at Granny's diner.

“Belle, it's the  _internet_. It's not realistic. I can't compete with what they do there and...”

He doesn't even know what to say, full panic taking over. He's bad enough in bed as he is, without her having anyone or anything to compare him to. Now that she's probably more aware of the performance of any other male, she might be yet more tempted to try this with someone else, with someone who's actually capable of pleasuring her like she deserves.

“Stop that. It's not a match. And when you take a good look, you find a lot of very helpful and educative information on the internet. It gave me various ideas. I'd like to try one now, if you're interested.”

“Don't say these things,” he pleads, looking anywhere but at her, panic of a new kind rising quite literally.

Rumpelstiltskin doesn't need to glance down his body in order to know that his weak physique is more than up for the challenge, despite the rational knowledge that he has never actually finished the job at hand in a mutually satisfactory way.

“I want to try, sweetheart, I really do. But I'll only end up disappointing you again and I can't  _bear_ to...”

There's a movement in the periphery of his vision and when he turns his head to actually look at her, he finds that his True Love has moved to the other side of the bed, her back towards him. She isn't only getting away from him, but also doesn't listen to him, simply ignoring him when he speaks.

“Belle?!”

The panic and despair must be tangible in that single exclamation of her name, but she doesn't look back or acknowledge him in any way.

He doesn't blame her. Neither does her rejection come as a surprise. She has tolerated him and all of his failings for far longer already than he imagined and hoped she would. Really, it was only a matter of time before Belle would realize that she should be with someone who she actually deserves, someone strong and healthy - someone who is kind and  _good._

Rumpelstiltskin pulls the blanket over his head, defeated, hoping that it'll make her less uncomfortable when she dresses. It's not a coincidence that it also allows him not to see her when she leaves, almost as if this isn't truly happening.

There is obvious movement on the other half of the bed, but he doesn't dare contemplate what she might be doing, just how many of her belongings she is gathering to take with her. He doesn't know whether she is leaving their bedroom or his house, their  _home,_ and whether she'll ever come back. All he can do is support her in whichever decision she has made and...

“Are you coming, Rumple?”

He frowns, not expecting Belle to address him at this point. Especially not in such a tone, all gentle and... seductive?!

But he is hers, nothing can change that, and Rumpelstiltskin wouldn't want it any other way. He reluctantly pulls the sheet back, gathering what is left of himself to do anything in his power to obey her every wish.

His mouth falls open when he looks at her after all, momentarily afraid that some sort of magic has interfered. For there is no way for the scene right before him to be anything but an illusion.

Belle is lying on her front, casually leaning on several pillows which she has piled up on the other side of the bed. She's angled away from him, granting him a sight which makes his throat go dry in a matter of seconds. She's wearing nothing but a slight blush, her legs spread invitingly, the paradise between them glistening despite everything.

She smiles at him over her shoulder, the curve of her lips all affection and longing, and she is more genuine than any magic could ever hope to be.

All earlier worries of her apparent rejection forgotten, he can only stare at the beauty in front of him.

“Come here, you silly man.”

Rumpelstiltskin  _knows_ that it'll do more harm than good. But he's a weak man and she's his True Love and she  _asks,_ so he pathetically scrambles towards her as fast as his leg and ever increasing age allow him, clumsily managing to lose his boxers in the process.

“ _Yes_ ,” he groans, overcome by arousal and yet more anxiety alike.

Settling behind her, he raises a longing hand for her, halting the movement right before he touches her. Throughout the months they have slowly but surely familiarized themselves with one another's bodies, but he will never get enough of this – will never be able to believe that she is his as much as he is hers.

“Sweetheart...”

As always, the sight of her backside and hips has him panting, Belle's body all gentle curves and flawless pale skin.

“Touch me, Rumple.”

It's both a request and an invitation, her voice so very sweet. He finally caresses her with an ever tentative hand, knowing that he'll never get used to touching her like this.

He gets onto his knees to reach more of her, marveling at the feeling of her spine and ever so warm skin under his fingertips. But as usual, he can't give her his full attention, also needing to remain focused on his balance and the distribution of his weight between his bad and relatively good leg.

“This should make it easier for us,” she says, sighing with unmistakable if unexplainable happiness under his ministrations. “There ought to be less pressure on your leg and I think you'll be able to move easier. Maybe you can keep one of your hands free...”

Rumpelstiltskin is hardly listening, and not just because of the most distractive sight in front of him. If he fully considers that this is only necessary because of his inadequacies, which she too generously insists on referring to as  _their_ problem, if he reminds himself that this  _has_ to work, it'll only get more difficult.

Really, he's wary to even get started, quite happy to linger like this, when her desire for him hasn't sizzled out yet and when he hasn't disappointed her once again.

It's not that she has ever said that she is frustrated by his lacking prowess. In fact, there's never been any sign that Belle is bothered that he can never give her satisfactory pleasure when he's inside of her. Still, he can't imagine that she really doesn't mind, that she truly doesn't silently wish for him to be better at this.

“I want you, Rumple.”

Despite his own doubts and insecurities, there's nothing more persuasive to him than those words coming from her lovely lips.

He slides one, then two fingers inside of her to make sure that she is ready. It'll never cease to amaze him to find moisture, let alone so much of it, at the apex of her thighs.

Rumpelstiltskin makes a noise of appreciation at the confirmation that he can at least do this right, that he would only need a minute of gentle touching to guide her to her climax.

“Stop teasing,” she moans, as if she's fully convinced that he can do any better than this, “I want  _you.”_

Despite the obviousness of her request he hesitates this time, very much aware of the difference in difficulty between what he's currently doing and what she wants him to achieve.

There's no more lingering though when Belle reaches backwards and takes his hand, guiding it to her hip. There's no denying her request, the whole purpose of this.

Taking a deep breath, Rumpelstiltskin moves to envelop her. He groans at the light brush of his length against her buttock, a sound which increases considerably in volume when he settles himself above her, his chest to her back and his hips to hers.

Her thighs are barely apart and he questioningly places his knees on the mattress on either side of hers.

“The instruction said it has to be like this,” she mutters in confirmation, although she sounds slightly hesitant.

Just a few minutes ago, he would have had to forcefully prevent himself from snapping at her that this is truly a bad idea if even she isn't entirely certain why and especially  _how_ this is meant to work. Now, he simply does as she says, trusting her as blindly with this as with anything else.

Right now first wanting to get slightly used to this whole new way of wrapping himself around Belle before attempting to actually  _do_ anything, Rumpelstiltskin simply lowers himself on top of her.

Burying his face in her hair and kissing the nape of her neck, he tries to ignore how his hard length is pressed snugly between their bodies. Instead, he pointedly considers the way they are currently entwined.

Their bodies are flush with one another, from their toes to their legs and upper bodies, his head coming to rest briefly next to hers on the pillows. The pile she has made of the pillows supports her upper body and thus his as well, to the result that neither of them has to strain any of their limbs to keep them up.

He never liked the notion of making love to Belle while he is behind her and she has to support her own and part of his weight with her arms and legs alike. Besides the obvious, probably too demanding strain on his body, he loathed the notion of doing anything so beastly with his True Love.

Physically, this isn't all that different. But the whole thing seems so much more intimate and loving now that Belle's upper half is resting comfortably on the pile of pillows and her lower legs are placed almost just as pleasantly on the mattress.

He can't look her directly in her eyes like he prefers to do, but he might manage a kiss with some twisting. Realizing that he has both of his hands free for now, he wipes her curls from her face and finds that they can indeed kiss this way, the display of affection sloppy and tender and just a bit desperate.

Still, Rumpelstiltskin is far from oblivious to the fact that his upper body is lying heavily on top of hers and that the soft pillows beneath her don't change that she's carrying more than half of his weight.

“Is this unpleasant for you? If this hurts you in any way...”

“This is comfortable for me and  _if_ this somehow starts to hurt me, I'll let you know immediately,” she says, finishing his sentence before he has the chance to do so, obviously knowing in advance exactly what he was concerned about.

She manages to move her neck to the extent that she can directly look at him, her bright eyes reassuring him yet more her words do.

“I'm very sure about this,” she continues, addressing his other, so far unspoken concern while she's at it.

To provide additional confirmation of her enthusiasm, Belle pushes herself slightly back against him, causing him to growl in response to the increased friction. Aware of both her approval and her unspoken request, he moves back slightly, forcing himself not to  _think_ when he takes himself in hand and positions himself.

It takes Rumplestiltskin some time to line them up correctly, the slippery evidence of their combined arousal not making it any easier for him to find the unfamiliar angle.

But then he is finally ready and, muttering a declaration of love to her, slowly pushes inside of her, finding his way home.

Trying to focus on anything but the sheer pleasure of being surrounded by her, he slightly adjusts his body until he is stable, perfectly enveloping Belle with all his limbs on either side of hers, their hands entwined on the pile of pillows they're resting on together.

Closing his eyes tightly in defense to any frustration or discomfort which in all likelihood will present itself soon enough, he opts for some shallow thrusts, groans of enjoyment escaping his throat.

Rumpelstiltskin dares to  _feel_  only after a while has passed and nothing unpleasant has happened, fully realizing that his body is thrumming with arousal now that he's buried in Belle's ever so welcoming and slick heat... and that he experiences nothing other than that.

Eyes bursting open in disbelief, he mentally confirms that he's actually moving inside of her and that there is indeed no discomfort in his leg. The same goes for the rest of his body.

Better still, he doesn't need either of his hands in a vain attempt to keep it that way.

He pulls back a little, all of his attention focused solely on the physical sensations this time, and experimentally pushes into her again. He finds that he indeed barely has to make any effort to achieve the movement.

Hope blossoms within him, his brain almost overloading along with his body at the variety of suddenly no longer necessarily impossible options.

Considering the possibilities, he moves into her several times more, just because he  _can_ and because it feels so incredibly good _._ He keeps making sure not to get deep as he pushes into her, lest it becomes too much in a different way.

Rumpelstiltskin almost loses himself after all as she moans quietly in appreciation.

“This is good... Belle, this is... this is...  _perfect_...”

She makes a non-committal noise and he groans only louder when it dawns on him that she's doing this on purpose, that she all but forces him to focus all of his attention on their bodies for now.

Usually he would loathe this lack of verbal communication between them, but now he is grateful for the chance to dedicate all of his awareness to physically pleasuring her.

Keeping the lower half of his body still for the time being, he delicately withdraws his right hand from hers and insinuates it between the pillows and her body, seeking the place where they are joined.

He  _gasps_  as he brushes a finger to the spot right above it, almost entirely overtaken by the contractions of her inner muscles around him now that he is inside of her. He can perform these movements of his hand and fingers quite literally in his sleep, but it's a different thing altogether to actually have himself there while he does it.

The intensity of it would have had him collapsing if he wouldn't have been right on top of her. But since he already is, all things considered perched really quite comfortably and stably on her back, he doesn't have to force his body to make any demanding adjustments.

Having her tightening so powerfully around him like this, all but threatening his very sanity and all of his hard-won control along with it, is an unexpected complication of sorts.

Mentally bracing himself and holding the rest of his body as motionless as before, he repeats the action, moving his fingers just a bit more firmly against the most sensitive part of her.

Rumplestiltskin is somewhat prepared for the onslaught of sensations this time, only pressing his face more firmly against her back when she squeezes him and as he growls out his pleasure against her damp skin.

However, he is completely taken aback when Belle squirms away from his hand, making a noise of frustration.

“Too much,” she breathes, panting beneath him.

“Sorry, love,” he grinds out, understanding dawning before panic does; wholly accidentally, they have reached the point where there is such a thing as an overabundance of stimuli.

Still, this does cause him concern, simply because it has never been 'too much' before and, in all honesty, in these moments of ever increasing heat he doesn't know what to do instead.

But before he can worry about this, she has covered his hand with her own, showing how to touch her instead. He sighs in relief at the discovery that he can go on as before, just as long as he doesn't directly touch the epicenter of her arousal.

It turns out that her ideas for easily achievable further improvement don't end there. His left arm is still parallel to hers on the pillows, but she takes it and guides it strategically underneath her upper body. Before he knows it, his palm is filled with one of her perfect breasts while she can rub the other against the middle of his lower arm.

Rumpelstiltskin almost falters at the realization just how much of her he can touch this way... and that it barely requires any effort whatsoever. Indeed, although is already inside of her and actually moves within her, he can touch her at two more different places. Or rather, three, as he stretches more fully above her to mouth the pulse point at the juncture of her neck and shoulder.

To his indescribable delight and relief, Belle is mewling beneath him, grinding into his fingers and manhood alike. The latter reminds him that, wonderful as all this turns out to be, there's a reason that they went through all this trouble in the first place.

Not ceasing the movement of either of his hands or his mouth, he begins to move inside of her again, thrusting ever so tentatively, both to keep his own sanity for just a bit longer and in order to be aware of the slightest of her reactions.

They find a rhythm for the very first time and he could almost weep with joy, with the sheer reprieve of it.

Much as he'd like to, Rumpelstiltskin doesn't dare look how he regularly – smoothly, even – pushes into her. If he were to see how he met her slight counter movements in an eager but for once mostly controlled manner, he would surely come undone right there and then.

His firmly planted knees and deftly anchored hands providing all the leverage he needs, this is by far the closest he has been to bringing Belle release this way. He is not going to fail her again, never mind that it's possibly mostly himself that he wants to prove this to.

Next time, there might even be room to experiment. He is quite confident that he'll actually be able to manage a change of angle. Maybe then he wouldn't even need his fingers to...

He shakes his head to rid himself of those thoughts, incidentally burying his face deeper in Belle's hair. This is happening  _now_ and the next time isn't his concern just yet. It's quite miraculous in itself that he's already looking forward to it, such a stark contrast to how he used to dread the prospect of touching and inadvertently disappointing her again.

Synchronizing the movement of his hips, fingers, hand and tongue, he continues thrusting at a pace which could be almost considered as leisurely, if it wouldn't be for the ever burning urgency both inside and between them.

But with Belle moving eagerly with him and her moans becoming louder, there is no way that he can continue like this. Although all of his focus is on her pleasure rather than his own, Rumpelstiltskin couldn't be further from being unaffected by her enthusiastic reciprocation.

Already his control is slipping, his rhythm faltering as she flutters around him, moaning his name. Heaving against her slick skin and struggling for anything resembling restraint, he can't prevent himself from pushing into her much harder than he has done so far, consequently also accidentally going deeper than before.

Belle cries out at the increased penetration, doubtlessly horrified and perhaps even injured by his loss of control. His mind cleared of any lust almost immediately, he pulls back as quickly as he can, convinced that he has accidentally but undeniably hurt her.

“Are you all right? I'm  _so_  sorry, Belle. I shouldn't have let go like that. I...”

He scrambles to remove himself from her, to give her all the space she may need. Ironically  _that_ is what he can't easily do from this position, but he forces his ever so useless body to cooperate, heavy with the awareness that he has utterly failed her once again.

Cursing the previously convenient pillows beneath him, he at least manages to pull out of her and subsequently support the majority of his weight on his arms instead of her upper body.

“I'll stop now, sweetheart. It's over. Just tell me what you need me to do to make it bett...”

“Rumple...”

“What is it?” he asks, panicking when he finds that her face is still buried in a pillow. It mutes her voice, making it difficult for him to hear her. Much more importantly, there's no way that she can breathe properly like this.

Panting himself, but for a whole different reason than just a few seconds ago, Rumpelstiltskin takes her head in his hands and turns it a little as carefully as he can. Wiping her sweaty locks from her face, he makes sure that there are at least no barriers to prevent her from breathing freely.

“Do it...”

Her voice is hoarser than he's ever heard it. His body ever so unreliable, he twitches at the sound, the movement doubtlessly noticeable against the so very lovely backside he is still pressed against.

“Do it again.”

“ _What?”_

Of all the things he expected her to say, this certainly wasn't one. Surely she can't mean for him to...

“What you just did, Rumple,” she clarifies, to his relief sounding more like her usual self. “The way you just moved. Can you do that again? It felt... incredible.”

“I... I think so...”

His worry with regards to her well-being is immediately replaced by concern of a whole different kind. Rumpelstiltskin has barely adjusted to the discovery that he can finally make love to her properly, but to do so in such a rough manner... They have never done anything remotely like this before and this seems a bad time to start.

But then Belle boldly grinds against him, rubbing her backside against his still far from uninterested manhood.

“I will tell you if it becomes too much. I promise.”

There's only so much encouragement he can resist. Positioning himself once more, Rumpelstiltskin plunges into her; not quite as hard and deep as the last time, but definitely more powerfully than any time before.

Belle moans appreciatively, making an abrupt end to most of his fears. When he moves his hand back to her chest, she guides it to the headboard in front of them instead. Understanding her immediately, he holds on to the smooth wood as tightly as he can, grateful for the additional leverage. She covers his hand with her own, smaller one, entwining their fingers.

He tries to recreate what he just accidentally did and it appears to be working. When Belle cries out again, he knows better than to be worried, a grateful and almost proud smile finding its way to his face instead.

Making sure that the pillows continue to support their combined weight, especially under their intensifying activity, and that there are no signs of distress from Belle whatsoever, he slowly surrenders himself fully to the experience, to his never-ending love and desire for her. The bed is creaking dangerously and although he wouldn't be able to gather the focus required to repair it by magic if necessary, he can't bring himself to pay any attention to it.

Wrapped tightly around Belle and groaning half unintelligible words of love into her ear, he gradually allows himself to lower his control, to increase the pace and the force of the movements of his hips.

By now Rumpelstiltskin isn't reluctant any longer to move harder and deeper, actually starting to revel in the exquisiteness of it all. It may be different from what they shared before, seemingly too rough to be acceptable, let alone  _enjoyable,_ but there is undeniable pleasure for both of them in the way he thrusts almost wildly into her.

Putting everything he has into sliding into her the right way again and again and  _again_ , the hand which is still between her legs has faltered, slid down the pillows, no longer capable of the specific movements required for its usual task, or even to remain in place.

And yet, Belle is crying out beneath him. This time, he knows better than to be disturbed by the sounds, finding encouragement and delight in them instead.

Although he would never have expected it, he discovers that she becomes yet more vocal and tightens around him even more whenever he pushes more powerfully into her. The pressure inside of him however is building as well, almost entirely overwhelming him in its intensity, leaving him oblivious for anything but  _more_  of her.

Fully focusing on maintaining his pace, her tight wetness tormenting him in the most wonderful way possible, Rumpelstiltskin isn't aware that he has reached for the headboard with his other hand as well until that one is covered by hers too.

Something stronger than himself takes over now that his True Love is stretched out beneath him like this, loudly encouraging him as both of them reach the brink of release. Instinctively he pulls back as far as he can and then slams back into her, more strongly than he would have done under any other circumstances.

Belle  _screams,_ heavily clamping down on him. He has to dig his nails into the headboard in order to keep going, his arousal fully consuming him.

Throughout the months that they have explored and discovered one another physically, she has made all sorts of sounds of enjoyment and delight, but never it has been like this, for her to be entirely lost in their pleasure.

He continues to pound into her in a manner which he never imagined doing with his petite, sweet Belle, but there is no mistaking the way she shrieks with pleasure and bucks against him, her back arching into his front.

Nostrils flaring and sweat dripping from his hair, his chest sliding sloppily over her equally soaked back, Rumpelstiltskin is increasingly aware that he can't go on like this for much longer.

She's  _clenching_ around him and although his limbs aren't giving out just yet, there's another part of him that simply can't continue like this. If she doesn't reach her peak very soon, he won't be able to take her with him over the edge after all.

“Belle,  _please_...”

It isn't clear whether it's because of his plea, due to the mere sound of his voice or whether it's perhaps nothing but a coincidence, but she falters at those two broken, desperate words.

Tensing beneath him for an endless second, Belle cries his name into a pillow, heavily convulsing around him. Nothing could have prepared him for the sensation of being inside of her when she finds her release, the grip of her inner muscles on him tightening to the extent that he can barely move, despite the unequaled gush of moisture inside her.

Not forcing himself to hold back even slightly any longer, for the very first time allowing himself to completely  _let go_ , he pushes into her one final time. Buried more deeply and more snugly inside of her than he has ever been before, Rumpelstiltskin shatters along with his True Love. 

He howls something resembling her name as he spurts into her, trembling so badly that he can barely hold on to her. But he does, so close to her that for a few glorious seconds it feels like they are truly one.

Eyes tightly shut, gasping for air, he helplessly jerks into her equally shaking body right beneath him. A few tears leak from his eyes at this culmination of pleasure and love, of being able to share this with Belle.

It seems like there's no end to the fire between them, but eventually the flames turn into the most lovely shimmer. When he regains awareness of anything other than the heat within them, he finds that they are still exactly the way they were when they found their peak together.

He's still inside her, still covering her body with his own from head to toe. He can hardly move, barely breathe, but he's very much aware that he can't remain on top of Belle while they're in such a state.

Knowing no other way, he mutters a warning as he shifts himself towards the edge of the pillows. Holding on to her tightly, he simply lets himself fall off the pile, dragging her with him.

They fall onto the mattress in a blur of heavy limbs, sweaty hair and soft fabric. All strength has deserted him, but that doesn't prevent Rumpelstiltskin from pulling her to his chest and wrapping his arms around her, keeping her as close as he can.

Her breath is warm and rapid against his overheated skin, her heartbeat in sync with his. Belle looks at him through glazed eyes, giving him a smile more radiant than he has ever seen before. This is what true happiness must be like.

“I love you,” he mutters, sliding a hand weakly over her damp back.

“I love you, too,” she replies, sighing euphorically as she makes herself comfortable on top of him, tucking her head underneath his chin in yet another way they fit together perfectly.

For once, no more words are needed. It's probably a good thing, for he is incapable of finding them. Having Belle in his arms like this, both of them  _ravished_  and utterly satisfied... he has never known anything more wonderful.

Her breath is evening out, becoming deep and regular, and a smile curves his lips as she is falling asleep on his chest.

Rumpelstiltskin would be very happy to watch her for many hours to come, but he too can barely keep his eyes open. He's exhausted in the most wonderful way possible, but exhausted nonetheless.

Luckily, he doesn't have to stay awake in order to savor the smallest of sensations, to make sure that he doesn't miss a thing. By now, he is quite assured that it'll be hardly the last time for them to end up like this, both mutually content and simultaneously fulfilled after finding such incredible highs together.

Which reminds him...

“Sweetheart?”

Belle makes a soft noise of acknowledgment, almost asleep already. He can't help but think that it has never been like this before, that this is the first time that they have worn one another out like this.

“Did you say earlier that you've found more of these... possibilities?”

How Rumplestiltskin initially loathed the notion of trying anything else in a seemingly pointless attempt to make up for his bad leg and other inadequacies. At this point he is thoroughly intrigued by anything else they could try... to discover more ways to achieve this state of complete bliss together.

“I did,” she says, running loving fingertips along his side.

“I'd like to try them next time.”

Only such a short while ago he couldn't have imagined suggesting it, but now that her persuasion has lead them to  _this_... His faith in Belle is stronger than it has ever been before. Rather than being merely willing to try whatever she has in mind, he is by now very eager indeed to do anything else she has found.

“So do I.”

It's not just his imagination that she smiles against his chest. He mirrors her expression, tightening his hold on her as they happily surrender themselves to sleep.

Their next attempts may have similar results, they may have not. But no matter what, Rumpelstiltskin is convinced that, one way or another, it'll be thoroughly enjoyable for both of them. Now that they have managed this, they have already found exactly what they were looking for. 


End file.
